That purple, bloated thing we met on the 8 mile road — it wasn’t even a marmot. (It wasn’t a dog either, but that’s another story). But that’s not the issue — the thing in the movie wasn’t a marmot either. But that didn’t prevent it from being dropped in a bathtub now did it? And did it avert its brethren’s untimely demise at the hands of Robert Goulet? Who then meticulously wove the pelts together to wear during his maiden voyage in the newfallen snow? Leaving said marmots dead on the roads in Houston to rot in the winter heat?? I think not. Smarmy, Emerald-nut stealing, mustache-twirling bastard!!

But the marmot is not the issue.

But what about the dookie? Yes, we had fun at the infamous Bizarro Catbirds, sang some songs, relayed some taxicab confessions, generally living life by the drop. But all was not laughs. For later that night, thanks to lone star queso, I was to suffer the indignity of asking the shopgirl at Valero for milk of magnesia out of the side of my mouth ’cause it’s behind the counter next to the rubbers? And have her reply “yeah. that’s gotta suck, snicker.” Yeah? Ya think?

But all’s well that ends well, so … no, the dookie is not the issue either (not anymore :-)

Then there’s the company I keep out there in Houston, Texas. They’re the folks for their time and place. They fit right in there. And together we recycle the same lines from the same damn movies year after year and still make them sound fresh as the day they were put on tape. Cause that’s how we do it. My Houston peeps. They’re good people. And thorough. You’d be lucky to know them.

But exceptional as they are (and they are), they, too, are NOT the issue.

Dook of Earl is playing on the jukebox as I plot out the details of the ultra-secretive “Operation Marmot” (or “OM”, if you’re into the whole brevity thing.) The central mission and details of which, if I were to reveal them, I’d would have to kill you on the spot.

The operation. That’s the issue. Issue of all issues. Like I told the shoe shine guy at Hobby Airport — clean me up, so when I get off that plane in DC, I can say, confidently, and without hesitation,

“I’m BACK, bitches!!!”

Posted on Tuesday, December 18th, 2007 at 11:12 pm. Categories: Uncategorized. Click here to access feed for this post: RSS 2.0. Leave a comment. Trackback URL.